The Brief History of a Potentially Tragic Romance
by Cassandra Mulder
Summary: Chloe wonders if she truly has a future with Clark.


Title: The Brief History of a Potentially Tragic Romance  
  
Author: Cassandra Mulder  
  
E-mail: cassandra_mulder@yahoo.com  
  
Feedback: I live for it and love it. Flames are good for summer cookouts.  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Classification: Smallville; vignette; Chloe/Clark; Chloe POV/angst  
  
Spoilers: General season 1 Smallville; "Tempest" (season finale)  
  
Written: May 24 - June 1, 2002  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own "Smallville", but I'm working on a plot to abduct Clark. *drool* What? He's not real?   
Oops. Anyway, the show and all the characters in it belong to the WB and Tollin/Robbins Productions. If I   
owned it, I wouldn't be sitting at this computer right now. Well, maybe I would...  
  
Summary: Chloe wonders if she truly has a future with Clark.  
  
Author's Notes: This is just a little vignette that came to me one night, and that's usually how I ease myself   
into writing for another show anyway. Hope you enjoy.  
  
*****************************************************************************************************************************  
  
I've known Clark Kent since the eighth grade - barely two years. And yet somehow it feels like I've known   
him my whole life. It's one of those time warp things that's totally unexplainable.  
  
When he was assigned to show me around Smallville High, I think my jaw fell on the floor. Sure, I had to   
move away from civilization, but maybe my luck was turning around. There must be something about this   
country air, I thought, because they sure don't grow them like that in Metropolis. He was possibly the cutest,   
no, the most gorgeous, boy I had ever seen in my life.  
  
Trust me, I had to look around a couple of times trying to figure out when the inevitable girl mob was coming.   
But it never did, and it hasn't to this day.  
  
Who would've thought that in this small football town every last female would be mysteriously blinded by   
letterman jackets? Go figure.  
  
Anyway, I could've made a huge fool out of myself that day if Clark hadn't be so... Clark.  
  
When I insisted that he invite me over to show me his loft and I kissed him, he must've thought I was nuts.  
Maybe I am nuts, who knows? I don't think I ever told him that was my first kiss. Judging by his shock and   
the lack of groupies, I figure it was his first, too.  
  
Or so I like to think.  
  
Okay, I thought, he's cute, he's sweet, and there's absolutely no competition. I instantly knew this town was   
beyond weird.  
  
Then I met Lana Lang.  
  
She wasn't competition by traditional definition. She was unwitting competition. Perfectly clueless, and yet   
still a gigantic roadblock between Clark and, well, anybody.  
  
When I finally figured out he thought she hung the moon, the stars, and every planet in the universe, I   
wisely decided it would be better for my poor heart if Clark and I were just friends.  
  
Have I mentioned my brain and my heart are no longer speaking to each other? It's a bitter feud, so I'll spare   
you the details.  
  
In the beginning, I really just wanted to be his friend. I thought I was too young to be getting involved seriously   
with anyone, only being fourteen at the time. I had other things to focus on. Grades, writing, things that would   
get me out of Smallville in the future. A relationship with a high disaster potential wasn't exactly tops on my   
list.  
  
But, the more I saw him pine for Lana, the worse things got. I wanted to be the one he looked at like that,   
the one that struck him speechless.  
  
I wanted to hate Lana Lang more than anything in the world.  
  
The problem was, she hadn't done a thing to deserve that. So, except for the occassional catty remark   
to her bumbling, would-be suitor, what could I do?  
  
I was Clark's journalism-crazed gal pal, and that was all. That was all it seemed he wanted from me. I   
knew he cared about me, but he cares about all of his friends. I just knew he didn't care about me like   
that.  
  
I suffered in relative silence for so long, that when he asked me to the spring formal I wasn't sure that I was   
going to remain upright, much less be able to walk out of his barn. I don't even remember much about driving home, I was so out of it.  
  
I was ecstatic, and that's putting it mildly. For two weeks I walked - no, make that floated - around in an I-Have-a-Date-With-Clark haze. I couldn't have been anymore excited if the owner of the Daily Planet   
walked up to me and gave me a job as a feature writer.  
  
But I think you get my point.  
  
In the back of my mind though, I was terrified. What if Lana and Whitney broke up before the dance,   
and Clark decided to take her instead?  
  
I know that was a stupid thought, thank you very much. And I know it's the last thing Clark would ever do.   
But stranger things have happened. Especially around here.  
  
And if they had broken up, I would've felt more second place than I already do.  
  
Why do I do this to myself? Why do I daydream about Clark when I'm up against a deadline? Why do I   
stand on Main Street window shopping for pink dresses that I would normally never give a second glance?  
  
Why am I standing in the middle of the gym during a tornado warning while my date is off looking for   
another girl?  
  
Why do I love him?  
  
Fin 


End file.
